Tales of a sign thief

I’ve been stealing signs since I was a kid.  It’s a compulsion, I guess, and I’ve gotten it somewhat under control.  Yes, I have a storage shed half full of all sorts of weird signs from several different countries – a few smuggled across borders at great effort.  But, at home, I’ve only decided to display my absolute favorites.  After all, I’m all grown up now.

Right?

I’ll start out with the simple ones.  The basic signs that everyone steals which, for me, represent different stages of my life.  From my old apartment building comes the elevator certificate place holder.  The rental office was never open, so who knows if they bothered to ever have the elevator inspected.

Then, of course, we have bathroom signs.  From my current two jobs:

Here’s a memento from the little bookstore where I worked for about 10 years:

Then I have a series of for sale signs from houses.  By far, the “For Sale,” “For Rent,” and “Under Contract” signs are the most common.  I have tons of those.  But, every once in a while, a special sign catches my eye.  When it does, I usually return under cover of darkness and grab it.  My two favorite are currently on display.  “Too Late,” from a small house on Beech Drive in Chevy Chase, MD, stolen in 1991:

And another high school favorite, this one from a house near my friend’s place, also in Chevy Chase.  Here pictured with a gate closed sign stolen in 2006 from the abandoned apartment building (now remodeled and fully gentrified) across from my old place.

From my college town – Elkins, WV – comes one of my favorite little signs.  A nasty Chinese restaurant used to occupy the downstairs of the semi-abandoned health clinic.  To get to the bathrooms, you had to walk through creepy hospital hallways and, inexplicably, each bathroom had this sign hanging over the door on the inside.  I ripped one off the wall while having sex with a 55 year old woman.  She was bent over the toilet, taking it like a champ, and I reached up and tore the sign free.  I think I almost gave her a heart attack.

My most recent sign (last Sunday morning) is from my weekend job, which is also where that little bookstore is located.  I like blue.

Also pictured is the big snow and ice sign, stolen from the public parking lot near my old apartment.  I set my alarm for 3am, then went out and grabbed it, scurrying back home with full knowledge that about a dozen cameras were recording my every action.

Years of commuting on the Metro has afforded me the opportunity to steal a ton of signs.  The once ubiquitous yellow Smartrip signs dominated the system when the reusable plastic fare card was first introduced:

Of course, the prize is the placards that go in the front of the train.  These are stored in the operator’s booth which, in this post-9/11 world, is impossible to open.  You need…wait for it…a credit card.  Just slide it into the jamb and it pops the door, then you can sit in the operator’s chair and press all sorts of scary buttons.  Behind the chair are all the signs, so you can get a complete collection in just one go.  On paper, it’s an easy collection, as there are only three signs.  Red/Yellow, Blue/Orange, and Green/White.

The trouble is getting them out of the station.  Each one is 18×18 inches, and you’ve got wandering eyes everywhere.  Not only your fellow riders, but then cops and attendants at the station when you exit.

I have a huge, bulky winter coat, which is perfect for hiding the signs.  Finding an empty car is, typically, easiest on the Red Line route to Glenmont.  Late at night on a Friday or Saturday, you can find an empty car at some point after Silver Spring.  It took weeks for me to get it right, but I finally found myself alone and with a screwdriver.  Always a dangerous combination.  I popped the door to the operator’s booth, grabbed the sign, slipped it up my back under the coat, and then walked out at Glenmont like I was wearing a big brace.

Nobody is really paying attention, though I sweated a bit when the cops stopped talking to stare at me.  Running isn’t really an option with a big square pressed against your back.

On the flipside of the Green Line sign is the mysterious White Line.  I’ve been told this is for the money trains, or special service, but in a lifetime of riding the Metro I’ve never seen it used.

Of course, the real prize of my collection is the no trespassing sign from the rail platform at Brampton, England, in Cumbria.   It’s my favorite place in the UK, and I try to stay there once a year.  Though I haven’t visited since 2006, sadly.  I always do the same thing when I stay – take the little two car train from either Carlisle or Newcastle, get off at the station, walk the mile through the woods to the town, and then have a nice dinner.  The next morning is a three mile walk through forest (and, occasionally, along the road) to Lanercost Priory and Hadrian’s Wall, then hike back along the same route.  It’s one of those day long wanders, across field and stream, through forest and hills.  I feel the most at peace in the world when I’m walking that trail.  If I had the money, I’d relocate to Brampton and take that same hike as often as possible.

The last time I visited, while waiting for the infrequent train, I unscrewed the trespassing sign from the fence and stowed it at the bottom of my duffel bag.  It traveled with me from Brampton to the Isle of Lewis in the Outer Hebrides, then back down to London over a month-long period.  Then came the flight home, where the guards searching through my bags didn’t seem to notice or care.

I still keep an eye peeled at all times for interesting signs, though I don’t range as far now that I’ve become a commuter slave and work seven days a week.  Maybe I’ll pick up a few additions to my collection this winter.